Fate Remnant
by Weatherman21
Summary: 20 years after the end of the Fifth War, a new adventure begins...


To all of you veteran Fate fans out there, please avoid spoiling Servant identities. I want everyone to have an opportunity to enjoy the series at their own pace. Please be civil in the comments section, I don't want to start a flame war. THIS ISN'T CANON, so please avoid making statements regarding that. And please, enjoy!

Fate/Remnant

By: Noah Weathers

Warning: Fate/ stay night is owned by Type-Moon Studios, Kinoko Nasu, Ufotable, and Takashi Takeuchi. I do not own any part of the Nasuverse Franchise. Please support the original publisher.

Chapter 1: Dark Summoning

Darkness. The doors of the office had been shut tight, and locked. The windows were closed, then locked, and the curtains drawn. The fluorescent lights above had been disconnected. All this served to create a darkness difficult for the human eye to pierce. Yet the sole occupant had no difficulty seeing. He sat silently within his dark office, browsing the pages of an ancient tome. The leather-bound volume crackled under his fingers, appearing thoroughly weathered from repeated exposure to intense sunlight. He had sent ten men to retrieve this volume from a library in the deserts of the Persian Gulf. Only one had come back, with this book clutched tightly in his arms. Totally unconcerned by the loss of life, the man's only issue was replacing lost funds. "Ah well," the man thought with a grim smile, "once I have the real prize, it will all have been worth it." As if on cue, there was a soft chime at the door, signaling his expected visitor. With a single wave of his hand, the doors, so carefully locked before, clicked open, without a touch. "Enter…," the man called quietly. A portly, older man with silver-gray hair and electric blue eyes walked slowly in, shutting the door behind him. The visitor shuffled over to stand before the seated man, then bowed deeply, his bald forehead almost touching the desk before him. "My lord, the item you requested has arrived…," he said in a subdued voice.

"And we are sure that the item is genuine?" the seated man asked, allowing a hint of impatience to enter his tone. "Oh yes, Master! There is no doubt of the item's authenticity!" the groveling man assured quickly, obviously intending to please. "I assume everything is prepared in the laboratory, then?" The seated man suppressed a sigh. Sebastian was obedient, but too much of a toadying coward for his own liking. "Indeed Sir! All that remains is for you to add your own…personal touch." At his manservant's words, the seated man looked down at his hand. There, emblazoned upon the dorsal side of his right hand, was a crimson sigil. To most, it appeared to be nothing more than an elaborate tattoo, in the shape of a stylized 'T,' but to him it was much more. A Command Seal, the ultimate proof of authority between Master and Servant. "Very well, then, let us begin." The Master snapped the book shut and stood to leave. Sebastian quickly ran to the door to avoid making his master wait. The two men made their way down the hall, Sebastian skulking forward slowly, his Master striding briskly ahead. No one dared stand in the Master's path. They walked right into the elevator and let the doors shut without choosing a floor. The man in the suit reached into his lapel, and withdrew a black keycard, which he placed under a scanner at the bottom of the panel. "Access granted," breathed the female receptionist, "Arcane Research Lab." With that, the elevator went down, down, deep down. A mile beneath the underground parking garage, which had been officially labeled the building's lowest point. No one could access this floor without one of those black keycards. The last person to try…had made a rather unpleasant mess on the floor, very difficult and disturbing for the janitors to scrub away…

The elevator shuddered to a stop & the door opened with a pleasant ding unfitting of the dreary scene. Before them lay a massive antechamber. Lanterns on the wall glowed with blue fire, which seemed to generate shadow rather than light. Several researchers were hunched over a hidden shape in the center of the room. While they had obviously been having a deep conversation, the presence of their Master brought all conversation to a sudden halt. As he strode purposefully down the chamber, they retreated to their workstations, and two things came into view. The first was a large circular depression with intricate patterns carved into the stone foundation. The second was the object of their perusal, a sun-weathered piece of cloth atop a stone plinth. Just as worn by sand and sunlight as the book, the item appeared to have once been part of a black cloak. "Oh yes…this will do nicely," the Master muttered with a nasty smile on his face. "With all due respect Master," Sebastian began nervously, "what exactly are we looking at?" Sebastian's Master smiled in a patronizing manner. "This cloak belonged to a certain man, infamous for having been the inspiration behind the very Anglo-Saxon word 'assassin.' Normally, an Assassin-class Servant lacks the parameters to challenge the three Knight classes, let alone Berserker. However, this one is said to have been unparalleled in murdering his prey. If I am successful in summoning the Servant I desire, victory will be as good as mine." He grinned viciously. Before they could say more, a man stepped forward wearing black military gear. "Sir," he began, "the subjects you requested have been delivered." Their leader's grin widened. "Very good! Very good! Send them in at once!" he demanded. The armored man nodded and made a beckoning gesture to the two guards standing by a double set of doors off to the side. In unison, the two figures reached out, and yanked open the doors. Without warning, several dozen people came stumbling through the doorway. There was a bearded Irish man in red flannel, an Arabic woman still wearing her black vestments, a young Chinese boy whose eyes darted around in confusion and fright. Numbering about thirty in all, no two individuals were alike. Behind the stream of civilians, there were approximately twenty more of the black-clad guards such as the pair before the door, which had been bolted shut. "Wh-what's going on? Where are we?!" a young British man stammered. An unpleasant laugh echoed around the room in answer. "Ladies! Gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome…" the man in the black suit called out. "I realize that all of this must be very upsetting, but do not fear! You are all about to take part in a grand undertaking. I just need all of you to do one thing, and then will send you all right on your way."

"What the hell are we doing here?! What do you mean this is all a grand undertaking?! You trying to experiment on us?!" Several of the assembled subjects immediately began protesting. The Master hid his irritation. The rabble could be such a bother to deal with. "I assure you, this is a trivial task I need you to perform. All I ask is that you stand inside this circle and hold very still," he replied, gesturing towards the depression. The gathered people looked to one another, confused and wary. A few were skeptical, but the others reasoned, "Would he have shown his face, if he intended to hurt us?" One by one, the assembled individuals made their way forward into the circle. As the last one walked over the edge, the Master smiled gleefully in anticipation. "That's it. Perfect!" he cried. "Now…just…hold…still." He turned to his forces, who had quietly been surrounding their prey. "Captain…you may begin." His trusted officer nodded. "Very good sir." He unslung his rifle. "Men, light them up!" They quickly obliged. The screams of terror were quickly silenced by the roar of gunfire. Hardly a minute had passed by the time the subjects were dead. Throughout the ordeal, the Master had worn a sickening grin of satisfaction. The soldiers remained stoic all the while. They had long ago had mercy and regret beaten out of them. The scientists suppressed their disgust. They had seen the grave consequences for daring to question the Master.

The Master strode carefully around the depression, both for amusement and confirmation. This was a very precise ritual, and mistakes could not be made. There would be no time for retries. Satisfied that the blood had pooled correctly, he strode over to the stone plinth on which the cloak fragment rested. The Master gingerly plucked it from the stone, paced to the circle, and dropped the cloth into the depression. He turned to his researchers, who gave him a nod of approval. With everything in place, the man extended his right hand, and began the incantation:

"Fill, fill, fill, fill, and fill. Repeat five times, and when each is filled, destroy them. Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Let black be the color I pay tribute to. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall. Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the kingdom rotate."

A bead of sweat trickled down his neck.

"I hereby declare. Your body shall serve under mine. My fate shall be your sword. Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail. Submit your blood and soul to my undying will! If you will submit to this will and this reason…then answer!"

The circle glowed a vivid amethyst, and the bodies and cloak were engulfed in blue flames.

"An oath shall be sworn here! I shall attain all the virtues of Heaven! I shall have dominion over all the evils of Hell! From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power. Come forth from the ring of restraints, Grand Protector of the Holy Balance!"

An enormous pillar of light erupted from the magic circle, washing over all observers. As it faded, several of them collectively gasped. They could hardly be blamed. Even for a Servant, what had appeared before them was impressive. Kneeling as it did barely put the figure at eye level with others. They were wrapped entirely in a massive black cloak, with hints of black armor underneath. From within the hood, two blue orbs seemed to flicker like flames behind a mask like a skull. From within this figure came the following words: "I ask of thee, art thou mine Master?" His voice was deep and booming, and held a weight and power unmatched. The scientists shrank before such a figure, and even the guards looked nervous, though they stood their ground. Sebastian cowered behind the back of his Master, who held no fear in him whatsoever. Instead, he stood proudly, and declared: "I am indeed. Welcome, Assassin." The cloaked figure rose up with unsettling speed, to tower over those arrayed before him. His head turned from left to right, surveying the scene. As his eyes landed on the bloody stones around him, they seemed to narrow in anger. "You used human blood, when that of animals would have sufficed?" The Master offered a shrug and a sneer. "They were easy enough to obtain, and that seems rather hypocritical coming from someone so infamous as a murderer." The Assassin leveled a harsh glare at him. "Do not mistake me for some hired killer to debase myself at thy beck and call. I have only taken lives when The Lord hath asked they be taken." The Master smirked. "It makes little difference to me. All you need do is obey my commands. Can you at least do that?" Assassin drew himself up to his full, staggering height. "I have no intention of submitting to a _**monster like you!**_" For the first time in quite a while, the Master let his confident grin slip, and glared balefully at his Servant. "I see," he snarled, "then there is but one recourse. Men, restrain him!" The soldiers leveled their weapons, and closed in. The Assassin simply sighed…and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. The soldiers' eyes darted around rapidly, then turned together as one of their number fell, his body in one direction, his head another.

With a flash of silver, a soldier fell dead, his head sliced clean off his shoulders. There was a sudden shriek of terror. They turned to see another, vertically bisected corpse. The whistle of metal slicing through air, the gushing of red blood, a third lost. The surviving soldiers panicked, and began to scream, only to be cut down, without clemency or remorse. In less than a minute, the stones had been reddened further, and only ten living things remained: The Master, Assassin, Sebastian, six scientists, and one soldier, who lay on the ground, trembling violently with fear. Assassin stood untouched and leveled his weapon at the Master. It was a greatsword, almost as big around as an adult male, and he wielded it expertly. He charged at the man who committed such heinous crimes. He would be brought down in the name of Allah! He would- But just before his blade connected, his entire body went rigid! Assassin strained to move, but his body refused to obey! "What?! How?!" the cloaked reaper asked in disbelief. His Master laughed loudly and cruelly. "I have never been a particularly powerful magus. My skillset isn't diverse, and I have about twenty magic circuits. But there is one subject in which I am quite skilled: metal manipulation." He extended his hand. Assassin's massive sword rose up into the air, and at the twirling of his finger, began to spin like a top. The Master smirked down at his Servant. "I am particularly adept at manipulating iron. So much so that _I can even control the particles of iron within an individual's bloodstream." _Assassin's eyes went wide with shock. "But…that is irrelevant! Servants are fundamentally spiritual beings, without flesh or blood! Your magic should be useless!" The Master grinned demonically. "You would be quite right…most of the time. But do recall what _exactly_ the terms of our contract were." The Servant's eyes narrowed as he recalled the exact words used by the magus during the ritual. Then it hit him. _Submit your blood and soul_\- "to my undying will," the Master supplied. He smiled in triumph, savoring the look of hatred on his Servant's face, and relishing in his pain. He was just a minion, after all. "So? What will it be, Assassin? Submit, or die?" The black-clad assassin tasted bile. It felt _wrong _to give ground to this man. _**Supremely wrong.**_ But… "I reluctantly yield," he spat out. The pressure abated, and the Master adopted his previous, jovial disposition. "Excellent," he crooned, "then there is just one last detail," he said as he turned to his one remaining guard. If it was possible, his gaze seemed to terrify the soldier far more than even Assassin's presence. "Failure…is unacceptable," he declared smiling coldly. "He had the fortitude to survive my assault," Assassin protested. "That resilience is to be commended." The Master looked disappointed. "Very well…but…punishment is still necessary." His hand flashed through the air, and the young man screamed, holding the bloody stump where his hand had been. "Clean that up, will you?" the Master ordered over his shoulder as he walked away, "then come join me." Assassin shuddered with disgust. He was not looking forward to working with such a cruel Master.


End file.
